Phobic
by Blythe Flynn
Summary: [COMPLETE]Angelina is afraid. Afraid to love, afraid to need, afraid to trust. She takes out her inner pain on herself...but when the Gryffindors must spend the night in the Great Hall, an unexpected comrade discovers her pain and finds it beautiful. RR
1. Hogsmead

**Phobic**

_Author's Note: _This is supposed to take place during the third book right when the portrait of the Fat Lady goes missing…please review…**I am aiming to get over 200 reviews on a single piece!**

_Disclaimer: _I do not own the rights to 'Harry Potter' or any of its syndicates or anything of the like…

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_'I hate you, Angelina Johnson. You are more worthless than the dust one finds under a dead house elf. Why did you let that prick Marcus get the better of you?' _after a heated 'discussion' (paired with a swift kick between the legs) with Marcus 'eat me' Flint, Angelina slinked into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer or eight to console herself, alone in her shame.

_'You used to pride yourself on being above that shit, you imbecile. Why did you let him psyche you out? Was it because of the way he looked at you in a dirty way? Like you were the dung beneath his feet? Was it because his foul words brought you back to where he set his vile scene? Was it because he called you a whore? He's the sex addict who thinks it's hot or something for him to try and molest essentially every and any girl who says two words to him (usually 'fuck off'). Asshole. He made you a whore if you are one. Not you.'_

Drowning her wretchedness in the biting warmth of her fifth butterbeer, a new thought entered Angelina's slurred mind. Why not make a cut? Just one, to see how it would feel to ease her pain through blood. Digging through her gaping pockets, she searched for something, anything sharp enough to draw blood. She came upon a razor she still had in her pocket after an earlier visit to the tub. (as there is no known spell or potion for hair removal; only for hair growth) Lowering her arm and the blade below the table, her semi-frantic fingers danced upon the tip of the gleaming metal. Slowly, bravely, she dragged the edge of the razor across her left forearm.

_'This is for what you did to me last Christmas, __Flint__.' _

At first, Angelina felt nothing, but then suddenly, as the blade moved in a sharp diagonal motion, searing stings attacked every vulnerable nerve. She had no idea that such pain could spring from such a small wound. Her breaths were shallow as her head began to swim and nausea controlled her stomach. Her stupor-like state was broken by two strong fists thrusting their butterbeers next to her on her table. The fists belonged to two certain red headed knaves who were notorious for running rampant on close to every Hogsmead trip, leaving havoc, accidents and small amounts of carnage in their path.

"'Ello, Angeleeeeeena! What're you doing, shaving your fuzz ridden legs? Isn't it a bit cold to go hairless?" George, noting the razor sitting on the tabletop jumped at the opportunity to use his witty 'humour' before his bottom even touched his seat beside Angelina. She was greatly relieved that her fresh, newborn cut was well sheathed by her black sleeves.

"Rosmerta, why don't you be a doll and fetch us all another round of butterbeers?" Fred had an inkling (well rather he heard Angelina hiccup sloshedly) that perhaps his Quidditch mate had already had quite enough…but one more couldn't hurt.

In the company of the twins, Angelina hid her unshed tears behind a false, lying smile, but in a cloudy corner of her mind she knew that their dark shadows would trace her face later.

"We've just been to Zonko's and bought an utterly obscene amount of stink pellets and sprinting beans. We're hoping to eventually create a hybrid of the two so we can create 'Stinky Sprinting Beans.' Sounds good, eh? Before that we dropped by Honeydukes and stocked up on Jelly Slugs and Pepper Imps. You can't ever have too many of those. How about you, Angelina? What mischief have you been getting into this trip?" Fred's question left her unsure as to whether to tell them the truth or not.

"Well," she began, still debating her choice of answer, "I'm sure you the gossip travelled to Zonko's and you heard about the small tiff I had outside of Dervish and Banges with that putrid cockroach, Marcus Flint-"

"Oh yes!" exclaimed George, "Heard you made his hands fly to his balls faster than when he fantasizes about climbing on top of every girl in Hogwarts! Nicely done!" A small twinge lifted the corners of Angelina's mouth into a light smile.

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Supper back in the Great Hall helped to lift Angelina's spirits somewhat, but the throbbing in her arm reminded her of the inner pain that still plagued her thoughts. _'Next time,' _she thought to herself, _'I'll use a different tool.'_

As the Gryffindors trickled up towards their dormitory, a large hold up blocked Angelina's passage.

"Let me through please," came Percy's voice, as he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "You can't all have forgotten the password-" a silence then pulsed throughout the students. "Someone get Professor Dumbledore. Quick." The Fat Lady had vanished, leaving but her ravaged canvas behind.

"Sirius Black did it, the beast!" The nearby portraits shouted in witness to the recent events. They began tittering between each other nervously while Percy made futile attempts to compose everyone.

Dumbledore arrived shortly, and calmly began herding the shaken Gryffindor students to the Great Hall where they would spend the night while the faculty searched for Black.

Angelina walked behind the main group of frightened pupils, and as she neared the entrance to the Great Hall, she caught sight of Marcus going up the stairs nearby. She saw him mouth the horrid word venomously, like poison, "Slut," and continue on his way upstairs. As Angelina walked through the doorway, she knew she had to cut again.

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A.N. that's chapter one, chapter two shall contain a flashback to what exactly happened between her and Marcus, a very nice encounter with another student and a little more angst…hope you enjoyed and will continue reading!


	2. NakedInsomnia

**Phobic**

_Author's Note: _Thank you to my über-kind reviewers…you truly have no idea how much I value your positive response to my work…

_Disclaimer: _I do not look like J.K. Rowling. I do not sound like J.K. Rowling. I do not smell like J.K. Rowling. I do not taste like J.K. Rowling. And finally, as I am not a multi-millionaire with thousands of corny offspring merchandaise products from her bestselling books, I certainly do not and will never FEEL like J.K. Rowling, so please note that I am not her, so I didn't write the original books, but now I am simply taking advantage of my rights as a fanfiction author and writing a small piece!!! Take away the pesky lawyers!

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Chapter two: Insomnia

It was nearing two AM and Angelina couldn't sleep. Rest evaded her. She looked to the opposite side of the Great Hall where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were obviously discussing the prior events, despite how cunning and secretive they attempted to be. Teachers came in every so often to check to see that all was in order. But apart from fragmented whispers, Angelina was alone in a great quiet.

_'Whore.__ Slut. Maybe you deserved every moment of the agony.'_

Her thoughts drifted back to the previous Christmas break when she had stayed at Hogwarts, seemingly uneventfully.

**_Flashback_**

"Angelina, come out. I know you're in there. You can't hide forever." His cold, menacing voice chilled her to the core. Madame Pince had left the library for the night and Angelina was left cowering alone under the desk.

"You can't escape me, Johnson," Flint spoke as he began an in depth search of the library for his victim. He brandished his wand sharply as he hexed all the doors locked.

"You're alone with me. There's no one to save you now."

Angelina's eyes dared frantically around the dark library, desperately hoping that this was a nightmare, but as her stomach tightened around the ball of fear inside of her, she knew that it wasn't.

A scream halted in her constricted throat as Marcus pounced, pinning her struggling body beneath his.

"You're mine now." His voice came upon her like a death sentence. Half terror possessed, Angelina clawed at his looming face like a wild animal, but in her panic, no sounds would come. She was stifled by horror.

"Bitch! Stay down!" a stinging blow was delivered to the right side of her face.

"C'mon, it's not like you haven't wanted it, begged for it, Johnson, you slut." With one hand he held down her wrists, with the other he unfastened his trousers. He knelt on her torso to keep her subdued beneath his weight.

_'Maybe it's not worth the fight.' _Angelina thought in despair as she gave up the battle and let him come over her. Use her. Violate her.

**_End of flashback_**

_'I need to bleed.'_

Angelina felt around the hem of her sleeves for the pin holding them together that had so many times unintentionally stabbed her. Only this time, she **wanted **to be hurt.

With less caution and more urgency, Angelina pushed the tip of the pin under her skin, driving into her veins. She then pulled her tool up viciously, ripping the flesh, and leaving a crimson line on her arm. Taking a step further, she made another strike going the opposite direction, resulting in a red 'X' dripping into her sleeping bag. This time, she didn't feel faint. She felt more in control than she had ever been.

"Oh, Angelina." Fred's concerned voice startled her as it dawned upon her that he had been watching. He was wise to her blood game.

"I—I—" she began, whispering, as he knelt beside her and cradled her bleeding arm in his hands, like a wounded bird. Slowly, tenderly, Fred bent his head down and softly kissed her marks, staining his lips with her blood.

"Don't say anything. You don't have to explain. I've always known, Ange. I was outside the library that day, but the doors wouldn't budge. I heard him force himself on you and I stood by, helplessly abandoning you. It kills me to see you take it out on yourself." Fred then eased in next to her inside her sleeping bag, holding her trembling body close to his chest as Angelina wept silent, burning tears. The first she had cried in too long.

He gently allowed his fingers to caress the warm skin on her back, as it sent shock waves through his body, every nerve in his form standing alerted. Slowly, carefully, Fred moved his lips to brush against the soft hair resting on the crown of her head. Moving lower, he began to kiss her forehead, her eyelids, her earlobes, and finally her more than accepting lips. It was soft, warm, tender and everything a first kiss should be. Their second was much less soft, more insistent, more ardent, as though it was critical that their tongues be intertwined, or else their hearts would beat out of their ribcages.

"I want to know you intimately, Angelina. I don't mean solely in a sexual way, but in a way that no one has ever known you. I want to know you more than God himself does. I want us to come to each other completely pure. Untainted. Spotless of any blemish or guilt. I know your pain, Angelina, and it is truly beautiful. Captivating. Your eyes hold such a knowledge of hurting that to look into them makes me die inside. I want to be inside you in a very profound way. Yes, I want to know your body, but also more about that stunning pain you hold to your heart and can't let go of. I want to share that pain." Painstakingly, Fred began to remove his night robes. Once he had rid himself of his own, he let his hands roam over Angelina's inviting body, easing her robes over her head in the most sensual way imaginable.

"Fred, I want you. I want your touch. I want you to come to me as **you. **Completely genuine, open and naked. I want you to take off your ring, I want you to take off that cord around your neck. Then I want you to take out my earrings, my jewellery and any other superficial ornaments that will detract from us. But at the same time, I'm altogether scared. I know exactly what I want, but I am so afraid to lose it." without words, Fred started to do exactly as Angelina had asked him and they came to each other. Open. Genuine. Naked.

Angelina fell asleep in their warm afterglow, the best sleep she had experienced since childhood. Sensing that the discovery of their new relationship would not go over easily with a Great Hall full of house mates, Fred slipped out of the sleeping bag, quietly put his robes back onto his love-worn body and swept her slightly open mouth with a light kiss so as not to wake her.

In the morning, Angelina awoke to see that her long desired lover was gone. Left the Great Hall. Too tired to look more extensively, she simply basked in the warm luminosity of her sexual and emotional encounter.

It wasn't until breakfast that Angelina caught sight of Fred, hunched over his coffee and rolls, and clearly, deliberately not making eye contact with her. He left the Great Hall before the others, mumbling excuses about needing to work on his homework. It was only then that she realized that she had been cheapened again. She had been lied to, she had been taken advantage of, she had been used, and worse still, she had bared her soul and been forsaken. Again.

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A.N. So…how was it???? What'll happen in the final instalment of this story? Has Fred really abandoned Angelina? Was he just in it for the physical pleasure??? Leave me a review and tell me what you think!


	3. I won't let you sink

**Phobic**

_Author's Note: _sniff this is the final chapter of 'Phobic'…it feels sad because I doubt that I'll continue to get reviews once I stop posting chapters! But I have plot bunnies running around for either a Draco/Hermione fiction or a Draco/Cho fiction…we'll have to see. Which pairing do you guys like better? **REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! :o)**

_Disclaimer: _You know the drill…I don't own diddly…

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Chapter three: I won't let you sink

All through Potions, Angelina felt a nagging urge to slice and dice again. The overwhelming ache threatened to consume her. She had never allowed anyone to see her hurting, no less cutting her pain away, and now she had opened herself and let a liar see everything.

_'I hate you, Fred Weasley. You've made me die inside.' _Angelina traced her cuts with her fingertips, longing to see them tear open again. It was amazing how quickly she became addicted to her little habit. Fred still ignored her, shying away from eye contact and busied himself with joking around with his friends, just like he always had, only usually Angelina was one of the people he was joking around with. Now it was as though she never existed and every reminiscence of her laughter, her tears, her blood had been erased from his memory.

In the corridors between classes, Angelina could feel the shame mounting inside her. She wasn't entirely sure, but she thought that everyone was looking at her…differently. Like something cheap, like the whore she felt she was. Had Fred told people about his sexual exploitations?

"Angelina, please try to pay attention to the lesson. I've been calling your name three times now. Can you tell me exactly how one can grow Fiching Fruit without a fertilization period of more than 3 months?" Madame Sprout asked Angelina, her patience surprisingly waning.

"'Erm, I, well, I…I don't know. Can I please be excused, I don't feel well, Madame Sprout." As the Herbology professor nodded her consent, Angelina assembled her things and left the greenhouse. She had nearly reached her dormitory when she heard laboured breathing behind her.

"Angelina, hold up, I've been meaning to talk to you, I've chased you all the way up from the greenhouse, please listen to me." Fred spoke in fragments, trying to breath and explain the world to her in fifteen seconds. The latter failed to work.

"No, Fred. I listened to you and I gave myself to you, and what do I get? I get trampled. I get shamed, I get hurt. No, Fred. You can't explain away your manipulation of my heart. My body. My soul. I have had far too much of your bullshit to handle." On that note Angelina turned to face the portrait of the Fat Lady, mumbled "Fructus Formulae" and walked through the Gryffindor common room. With a little more bumbling, Fred hastily followed. He trailed her up the stairs into the girls' dormitory and knocked on her clearly barricaded door.

"Please, please, please Angelina. I have an explanation as to why I've ignored you today. I couldn't look at you. I knew that if I looked at you my heart would explode. I couldn't bear to see your pain, and I took the coward's way out by looking right through you. I've spent the whole day trying to find the perfect way to tell you everything I'm feeling right now." Fred then slipped a piece of parchment under Angelina's door:

_'Phobic_

_I watched you stand alone_  
_I watched you cry your eyes out  
Now tell me what you've done  
  
_

_Is it so bad that  
I would shut you out  
And leave you here alone  
  
Yes, I saw what you did  
I was right there with you  
I won't let you sink  
No, I forgive you  
  
Phobic  
Don't be  
Grace needs a little more freedom  
Phobic  
Don't be  
Love needs room to breathe  
  
I have watched you grow  
And I've stood in your shadow  
I've never walked away  
  
I hung the stars and  
I hold your heart  
So, don't ever be afraid  
  
Yes, I know when you breathe  
And I feel when you need  
I won't let you sink  
No, I forgive you  
  
You can be healed  
You can be free  
You can know peace  
Never be afraid again  
  
Never be afraid  
Never be afraid  
I'm here'_

Silently begging for Angelina to let him hold her again, Fred waited for her response. Slowly, cautiously, the door unlatched and creaked open.

"Don't ever let me sink again." Were the only words that Angelina said to him as she pulled him into her bedroom and closed the door.


End file.
